


Not Much with the Damseling

by azephirin



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Twilight - Meyer
Genre: 1000-3000 words, 1000-5000 Words, Book: New Moon, Crossover, Dreams, Episode: Chosen, Female Protagonist, Fix-It, Gen, Injury, Motorcycles, POV First Person, Slayers, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:55:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Every girl who could have the power, will have the power.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Much with the Damseling

**Author's Note:**

> WTF. I don't even know. I am clearly not responsible for my own actions these days. Title and summary from _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ episode 7.22, "[Chosen](http://www.buffy-vs-angel.com/buffy_tran_144.shtml)."
> 
> **Spoilers:** For _Buffy_, "Chosen"; for the _Twilight_ series, through _New Moon_.

There was a slick spot on the pavement—of course there was. The bike went into a skid, careening to one side as it went off the road. I heard myself scream, but that was reflex more than anything else; I'd been injured so many times that my instinct was more to catalogue than to panic. _Ow—thighbone—I'll be out of commission for weeks if it's a broken femur._ My shoulder slammed into the ground as the bike finally toppled all the way, and I winced—_dislocated, for sure. Oh well, at least that's easily fixable._

I'd left Jacob far behind, but he'd catch up to me in a few minutes, I knew. In the meantime the world was strangely quiet—there was no traffic this far out, and there was no noise from the woods that encroached a few yards away.

Maybe I'd scared off all the wildlife with my dramatic entrance.

My leg didn't hurt as much as I'd thought it would. I wriggled—the bike would be heavy, I knew, and I'd have to wait for Jacob to come and lift it off me—

Or not, I realized with a start as it fell to the side, and I was suddenly free of its weight.

I poked tentatively at my shoulder—OK, so that was really dislocated. Well, there were worse things. I wiggled my toes, flexed my knees—everything was a little sore from being landed on, but no major harm done, it seemed.

Weird.

Jacob roared up and jumped off his bike almost before it stopped moving. "Bella! Are you alright? We have to get you—" Then he stopped and looked at me, and the look turned to a stare. "Bella?"

"I'm OK. Can you help me up? I dislocated my shoulder. Maybe you can pop it back in?"

"Yeah. Jesus, I was scared the bike had landed on you. That looked like a bad skid."

"Oh," I said, "it did. I moved it. I hope the damage isn't too bad—you worked so hard on it."

Jacob moved a little closer, but rather than help me up, he knelt next to me and gently turned my face to examine it. "You've got a scrape on your cheek," he said evenly, "but it's healing."

"Well, that's good," I said. "Seriously, can you help me up?"

"I don't think you understand. I'm watching the blood clot here."

"Eew, Jacob."

"I'm watching the blood clot like it's some kind of science video, and you just lifted a motorcycle off yourself. With a dislocated shoulder."

Impatiently, I held out my uninjured arm, and Jacob sighed and carefully helped me up. "I didn't think that dream was actually literal," I said.

"What dream?" said Jacob in that same even voice.

"Just another one of those weird dreams I've been having. Although not as scary as a lot of them. I heard someone—I guess it was a woman—saying that I had a calling. I was like, whatever, but she asked me if I wanted to be strong. And I said yes, because who doesn't want to be strong?" Maybe if I was strong, I'd thought in the dream, this all wouldn't hurt so much—I'd be able to smile, to bear it. "I thought she meant emotionally—" I stopped midsentence when I saw that Jacob had started to laugh. "What? What's so funny?"

"Just—" He tried to catch his breath and failed. "Just when I thought life could not possibly get any weirder around here—"

"Jacob, I don't know what you're talking about."

He pulled himself together. "Let's take care of your shoulder."

He did, and I yelped, but it really wasn't as bad as I'd been expecting.

"You really didn't think that dream meant anything?" Jacob said.

"I dream all kinds of weird things these days. Would you please tell me what you're getting at?"

Inexplicably, he started laughing again. "I wish I could be a fly on the wall for that relationship talk. 'Edward, darling, I think you should know, I have a calling as a vampire slayer.'" His voice deepened in a mimicry of my true love's. "'Well, my sweetest beloved, that could be a problem. Just try not to stake me, would you?'"

I closed the space between Jacob and me with a step, and shook him. "Vampire slayer? Jacob!"

He pulled back and winced. "Ow. That new superstrength? Doesn't just apply to motorcycles." He pushed up his sleeve, and I saw bruises forming. In the shapes of my fingertips.

I looked at him in horror. "Jacob— I'm so sorry— I didn't mean—"

I was used to injuring myself. It happened all the time.

I wasn't used to hurting other people.

Jacob took my hand, and I didn't fight him. I felt my world reshaping itself again, and pinpricks of tears began to form in my eyes.

_Well_, some strange part of me thought, _at least now Edward can't tell me that he'll hurt me if we have sex._

I started to laugh, except I was sort of crying, too, and Jacob hugged me and I cried some more and got a prodigious amount of snot all over his T-shirt.

"I know somebody you should talk to," he told me. "Her name's Buffy."

"No one's name is Buffy," I mumbled into Jacob's shirt.

"Swear on a stack of Bibles," Jacob said. "Her name's Buffy. She—well, I'm not sure where she's living right now. Her hometown collapsed into a giant sinkhole last weekend. But I know some people who can get in touch with her. She's done this whole thing, including the forbidden-bloodsucker-love part."

"Okay," I said, because there didn't seem to be a point in arguing now that what I thought was just a typically weird dream had turned into cosmic destiny. Or something.

Jacob disentangled me, and managed not to look grossed out at the mess I'd left on his shirt. "Come on. Let's go back to my house; I'll make some calls. Do you want to ride with me? I can come back and get your bike later."

I stood for a moment. My shoulder was better, just a mild twinge. My thigh was fine. I reached up to touch my face, and felt a scab on my right cheek; my fingers came away clean, though. Nothing broken. I felt strangely steady.

"Actually," I said, "I think I'm good. But thanks."


End file.
